Fairytale
by CS Fitzgerald
Summary: Late at night, when parents tell their frightened children of the story of Gellert Grindelwald, they will tell tales of the terrible atrocities the dark wizard had committed during his rise to power, of the countless lives he stole, of the the nations he left in terror. But what they will never speak of is the young boy with the stars in his eyes Albus once knew, the boy he loved.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter.

* * *

 _Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,  
And all of summer's stunning afternoons I loved will be gone._ _  
Then winter will return and exiled, like the sun, to a polar prison,  
My soul will harden into a block of ice.  
_  
 **Charles Baudelaire (1821 –1867)**

* * *

Late at night, when parents tell their frightened children of the story of Gellert Grindelwald, they will tell tales of the terrible atrocities that the dark wizard had committed during his rise to power, of the countless lives he stole, of the families that he destroyed and the nations he left in terror. But what they will never speak of is the young boy with the stars in his eyes that Albus once knew – of the story the history books seem to have forgotten.

And sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still take himself back to that fateful summer of his youth, to the sweltering, humid days that seemed to stretch on for eternities, and the cold, breezy nights that seemed to never last long enough. And he _remembers_ the story that no one else will _._

* * *

Once upon a time, in a town far away, the two meet in the most unlikely of places: a cemetery. _  
_

For when he had first found his mother's body, so cold and lifeless, Albus hadn't cried. Truth was that he couldn't remember a time when she wasn't bed-ridden, when flashes of toothy white porcelain and laughter had not yet been replaced with the papery creases lining her mouth and the limp rise and fall of her aching chest; no, instead of being sad, he'd silently taken the funeral arrangements, read the eulogy in a rock steady voice, guided his brother through the motions of the day, sat with his weeping sister until she slept, wrote thank you cards to all of the guests that came, and cleaned the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink before finally retiring to bed himself.

But that night, something had brought him back. Kneeling beside her tombstone, he carefully raised his hand and delicately traced the letters on the stone. _Kendra Dumbledore,_ it read, permanently etched into the dark marble before him. It felt like only now he understood what it really meant – how those words marked not only her death, but the end of any hopes of a future he once had. With her gone, he was tethered to this little town, forced to assume the burden of caring for his brother and sister, encased in a house that was his own coffin.

At once, he feels his throat burn, his lungs restricting with hatred and resentment and love and longing towards the women who had brought him into the Earth and was now lying in it. And for the first time in the seventeen years that he has lived that has already felt like a century, he breaks down and cries. He's glad he is alone, for the sorrow he has hidden finally escapes through the carefully guarded gates of his chest, drowning him, stealing the very air from his lungs and body. Unable to pretend that everything is alright any longer, he lets out anguished screams in to the still of the night, the kind expelled by an animal in pain, and his body trembles with every pained sob. He weeps for his mother, who will never look at him again with those lovely sapphire eyes; he weeps for his brother and sister, who seemed to never have had a chance in this life at all; and most of all, he weeps for the part of him that's buried with her.

And in that moment when he thinks all is lost, that he no longer has anything to live for, he sees something that saves him from the depths of his despair. Walking past a grave in the far distance is a creature of god, so lovely and out of place, with glowing alabaster skin and a halo of purest gold framing eyes of blue steel.

The young man turns to look at Albus, and in those few, fleeting seconds, he forgets all about the pain savaging him whole and is blinded by the heavenly beauty that has come to save him from this unrelenting torment. Though as quickly as the angel comes, it's gone, and he is left alone in this cruel and unforgiving world once more, wondering if he'll ever see the angel again.

* * *

But the story doesn't end there, although many wish it had.

* * *

You see, there are many days that can change the course of someone's life; however, there are very few days that can irrevocably change the lives of hundreds and thousands of people without any of them even knowing it – and that day would come exactly a week later.

When Albus had left his house that fateful July morning, it appeared to be just another normal Sunday, as he began his usual journey to Bathilda Bagshot's cottage. Ready to have his weakly afternoon tea and biscuits with the much older woman more out of habit than actual enjoyment, he took the same familiar long and winding roads down to where she lived as he had when he was a mere child. But when he knocks on her door, rather than being greeted by the aging woman's wrinkled face and ferocious laughter, he sees the boy from that night, who meets his glance with a disregard that indicated he was used to be stared it – hardly surprising at all, considering that he was the most beautiful person Albus had ever seen.

"I'm sorry," Albus mumbled, dropping his gaze to his feet as he started to turn around. "I must have gotten the wrong house-"

"Wait!" The boys calls out, holding him back with only his voice. "Were you looking for Miss Bagshot?"

He nodded shyly, his legs turning to lead. "And who might you be?"

"Figures that the crazy old bat has never spoken of me," the boy grins mischievously, golden strands of hair falling over his eyes as he laughs softly before he tucks them back behind his ears. "I'm Gellert Grindewald. Bathilda is my great-aunt and I'm spending the summer holidays here with her while I take a bit of an…extended break from Durmstrang."

"Durmstrang?" Albus tries to conceal his surprise, but his eyes lit up and he raises his head to meet those blue eyes. He never expected an opportunity to converse with company of like-minded peers in such an unremarkable little village in his wildest dreams. "As in _the_ Dumstrang? As in the school that educated some of Europe's greatest minds and revolutionary authors, like Dominic Ferdinand, Nikolas Anders, and Henrik Orsolya?"

"The very same," Gellert nodded, seemingly impressed by the young lad as he extended his arm out for a handshake. "Excuse me for my obvious lack of manners, but what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. Say my name, that is," Albus responded, taking the boy's hand into his. His fingers were slightly calloused and the smoothness of his palms that he had as a child were gone, thanks to years of poverty and hard living. Yet, he realized, there was no hand that was a better fit to his than Gellert's. To this complete stranger. "It's Albus Dumbledore, though."

"Well, Albus Dumbledore, I have a feeling that this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship," He smiles, something of trickery and daring in his expression, and even then, he couldn't help but believe there was truth behind his words.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for them to become inseparable.

As the days pass by in a hot blur, they spent more and more time together, discussing their favorite authors, laughing as they ride their bikes along the rugged dirt roads of the town, going to the market to buy their favourite sweets and chocolates, lazily lounging in the attic to avoid the unbearable heat (the hottest Godric Hallow's has seen in two hundred and sixty year, in fact), or simply swimming out in the pond to cool down. Looking back, however, one day in July stands out to him in particular.

The two had been sitting underneath a large willow tree that had offered a generous amount of shade in the meadows behind Bathilda's house, silently basking in each other's company as they read books they had borrowed from her library, when Albus can't stop himself from stealing a glance of his companion. Of course, Gellert is so focused on the text in front him that he doesn't even notice him doing it, so he continues to observe him as the dappled sunlight moves gently over his friend's hands and face and lips and kisses the messy ringlets of yellow hair that have once again fallen over his eyes.

It surprises him, the way that he finds himself jealous of an element of nature, but he can't help it – not when these past few weeks has made him realize how much he admires Gellert for how intelligent and witty and incredibly ambitious he is and how he wishes more than anything the boy beside him falls asleep there against the bark, the picture of perfection; so that he might reach out and touch him and kiss those soft lips while their owner slept.

"What are you looking at, Al?" Gellert asks, taking a break from his book as he set it down on his lap.

Albus feels the blood rush to his face. "Nothing," He lies, his courage ultimately failing him.

He doesn't dare do it, doesn't risk everything they had for a moment of selfish self-gratification, and settles with watching him from afar instead. He's not quite sure what to call these feelings yet, not when he's never felt like this way before, especially not for another boy, but although he doesn't realize the name of it now, it'll dawn upon him when he is much older that this was the moment it happened. When he had fallen in love.

* * *

Being in each other's company, though, would never be enough for the other boy; and perhaps that is where the real tragedy begins.

* * *

"We are the ones who possess magical powers and we should have supremacy over all others based on that fact alone. We have the ability to achieve so much greatness, Albus, don't you see? We need to aim bigger. Just think of the new order, of the dominance of wizards over the Muggles that have oppressed us and burned our ancestors on the stake for centuries!"

""It seems a bit extreme, doesn't it?" Albus says, somewhat uneasily as they lay in the attic. "Who says we can't rule with the Muggles – co-exist peacefully?"

"They will never see reason," Gellert said, shaking his head. "They have always been ignorant creatures who fear and destroy what they do not understand. Just look at how foolish they are. Look at the way they ruin the world around us with their senseless wars and what they did to you own sister, to our own kind - it's pathetic…The world needs new rulers, its needs us, Albus. We are its saviors."

It is hard to argue with him when they both know that he dreams of the same things that Gellert desires. For he too longs of a day of freedom and liberation, a day when Muggles like the ones who attacked his dear sister would be made to pay for their crimes; where Wizards no longer had to hide in the shadows in fear like lesser men and were powerful too.

"It's everything we've ever wanted and more, Albus," Gellert continues passionately, urgently grabbing his friend's hand, his touch electrifying and his eyes burning with all the infinite possibilities of their future, like stars. "The two of us, together, can finally lead the wizarding world out of darkness and into the open. No more shame in who we are. No more hiding and pretending. It'll be for the Greater Good."

There it is, that word. _Together._ It is also what Albus dreams of, even though he knows Gellert doesn't mean the word the way he hopes he does.

"You're right." He finally says, in spite of his earlier protestations, and smiles as he squeezes his hand in return. "We'll do it. Together."

* * *

They return to the place where they meet every night for a week; until they eventually find what they are looking for. "It's here!" He cries, "It's here and it's real. I knew it!"

"The Deathly Hallows?" Albus asks, as he walks over to join him.

"The Deathly Hallows," Gellert confirms, as he uses his wand to illuminate the darkness so that too he could see the grave that stood in front of them. On the stone, there's a barely legible name engraved and above it is a symbol that has almost completely faded. He doesn't recognize or understand – it look like some sort of ancient hieroglyphic.

"How do you know?"

"Look. It's right there - the sign," He answers, pointing to the circle within the triangle that was sliced down in the middle with a straight vertical line. "It represents all of them – the line is the unbeatable wand, the circle is the stone that brings back the dead, and the triangle is the infallible cloak of invisibility. And this grave is where Ignotus Peverell, one of the brothers who made the Hallows, rests."

Albus was astounded by it. So his companion had been right all along; the existence of three of the most powerful weapons known to mankind was recorded in the pages of a children's book, in plain sight to all. It seemed outrageous to believe such a thing could be possibly be true, yet it was, as the sight in front of them proved.

"They'll be ours – all of them," Gellert says as he turns to Albus, with a look on his face that could only be described as madness yet he chooses to overlook it. "I know we are already strong as we are, but with the Hallows, Albus, we could become invincible. Unstoppable, and conquer Death itself. No one would stand in our way. But I need your help finding them first."

For the first time since his mother has died, Albus feels like has purpose again. That he can indeed do something great. Be someone.

"You will stay by my side, Albus, won't you?"

He doesn't hesitate when he answers. "Always." After that, there would be turning back.

* * *

"We're going to leave tomorrow morning," Gellert announces suddenly, as he burst into Albus' room the following day unannounced and throws open the doors to his friend's closet, tossing numerous articles of clothing onto his bed as he talked. "What are you waiting for? Get up, get a bag and help me."

"Leave, why are we going to leave?" Albus asked, dumbfounded as he sits on his mattress. "What are you talking about?"

"I was thinking last night after you left, what's the point in staying in Godric's Hollow a moment longer? The summer's almost over and every day we stay here we're just wasting time And if you really mean what you said about doing this with me, we're going to need to use the most of our time. We need to go out there now and find an army of followers that will support us."

"I don't know, Gellert. It all seems so quick-"

"What's stopping you, Albus? The best time is the present!"

"What about Aberforth? "

"He's old enough to take care of himself now. You can't baby him forever. Anyways, in a week's time, he'll be leaving to Hogwarts. He won't be your problem anymore."

"And Arianna? What do you suppose I do with her to do with her? I can't just leave her here."

"Then don't. We can take her with us - it'll be the three of us."

"You're sure that is alright with you?"

"Of course. And when we finally find the Hallows, we can bring back your mother, and you won't have to watch over either of them anymore."

Albus stares at him seriously for a moment, as he ponders his choice, but is so moved by his friend's gesture that he couldn't find it within him to say no. "You're right, we should leave immediately. And I suppose we could also learn about the Deathly Hallows as we go, gain information that can lead us to their whereabouts."

"My thoughts exactly, Albus. Can you even imagine how powerful we'll be when we posses all three of them? We'll be the masters of death – the most powerful wizards in the world – and no one will stop us. No one." A smile broke out across his face and his voice filled with emotion as he got lost in the sheer beauty of his yearnings, his eyes twinkling with a dark glint.

Once again, Albus pushed his feelings of unease away as he had done many times before, blaming the crazed look on the lighting. Anyways, he knew he wanted this, to spend countless eternities with each other. But anything so great was always fated to crash cataclysmically.

* * *

" _You're not taking her!"_

 _"_ _Can't you see! He's holding you back – you could be so great! you cannot waste your talent!"_

 _"_ _He's blinded you, Albus. He's a monster, not a man!"_

 _"_ _What you're asking of me is an impossible choice! Please – stop!"_

 _"_ _Avada kedavra!"_

Curses soar through the room, flashes of dizzying light flying in every direction, varying colors that touched every surface, both beautiful and terrifying. The young girl, who had been hiding as three men fought, pulled herself up from under the table, forgetting the danger, as she wanted to see it for herself. And before any of them could stop it, it was already too late – her blue eyes turned to an impossible shade of emerald as a spell hit her right in the chest.

For a moment, all time stopped, and she seemed frozen there, cast in the brilliant green glow of the curse. She looked at her brothers and the fear that had haunted and tormented her for the past seven years suddenly disappears from her face, and it is as if he is seeing the sister he had lost so long ago. He wanted nothing more than to tell her that she was all that they had left, and that she was not allowed to leave them, not this time, not again, not yet. But before he can, the lights fade and she falls to the floor, her body making a horrible noise as it crashes onto the hard wooden floor, an action he knows will be replayed in his mind every day until it's his turn to die.

Somehow, although he has forgotten how to move, Albus finds himself kneeling at her side, rocking her small body back and forth, holding her head to his chest like he had done when his mother first brought her home all those years ago. Into her beautiful auburn hair, he cries out every spell he has ever learned, anything that can bring her back to life. However, for the first time, he is not strong enough to protect the ones he loved, and she is already gone to place where he could no longer reach her.

It is silent.

No one speaks – for how long, he is not sure. Finally, Gellert asks, "Do you think that there is a chance?" He doesn't add _for forgiveness,_ but they both know what is meant. His eyes are pleading, desperate even, and Albus wanted to give him the answer that he had hoped for; that he could say yes; that he could run into the only arms that could fix this, fix _him_.

But it was something that they knew he could not do. Not when they would never know which one of them had cast the spell. Not when the one whose forgiveness would have meant the most was gone, her voice too quite to speak those words.

He doesn't look at him when he ends it, afraid that he might lose his will if he does. "No."

"Goodbye then, my dearest friend." With that, Gellert is gone too, maybe for forever. And although he should have felt relieved knowing the hold the boy had on him was over, that he was free, he was not. All he could feel was unbearable grief at the thought he would never see the angel that saved him again.

Barely a whisper, he closes his eyes and struggles to say it back. " _Goodbye."_

* * *

When the winter begins, there's a new grave in the cemetery beside Kendra's.

And as more seasons pass, the days turn into weeks. And the weeks turn into months. And the months turn into years. But Gellert never does return to him.

* * *

And as those years add up, Albus can't stop from thinking of the memories of the future – of the life they said they would have, of the empires they would build together – and it taunts him, reminding him of what could have been but would never come to pass; while the memories of the past begin to fade, no matter how hard he clings onto them.

Sometimes, when he revisits that summer in his mind, he even finds that he has forgotten one of the smallest details of his friend, like the scar underneath his right eyebrow or the birthmark above his lips. Whenever this happens, Albus buys a newspaper, searching for his face, something that will remind him again. The headline of this week's Daily Prophet reads _A Monster Kills in Cold Blood: Grindewald Strikes Again!_ Flipping to page two, he sees that Gellert has killed the Head of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, along with his wife and four children, while they were sleeping, and people want revenge now that the death toll is steadily rising.

He knows he is the only one that can stop him and wishes more than anything he won't have to.

* * *

But it's inevitable, really, that they must meet again, though it's different this time; they're enemies now, standing on different sides of the same battle field, forty seven years having passed since their last encounter.

There's a pause between them as they wait to see who will make the first move and Albus takes this time to look at his opponent, noting that while it's been half a century, Gellert's managed to stay the same and yet become so very different. His former comrade's hair was still so gloriously golden that even the white strands of hair that were now present could not stop its ethereal glow beneath the sun, and his eyes still had a piercing intensity despite the wrinkles that adorned the skin around it, as if his appearance was an echo of the magnificence of his youthful self.

"Ah, so you've decided to make an appearance," the Dark Wizard eventually says, almost tauntingly, grinning widely as he breaks the silence that hung between them. "At last."

"Yes," Albus replies. his voice calm and his face not betraying a hint of the emotion plaguing him on the inside.

"I was wondering when you'd show up. I was starting to get nostalgic."

"I'm afraid I haven't come here to join you, Gellert, if that's what you're thinking."

The pleased expression on his face didn't falter. "I didn't think you had."

"Then you know I've come here to stop you. But I wanted to tell you first that it doesn't have to end like this," Albus said to him in appeal, hoping he could make him stop this insanity. "You might think there's no exit from this path you've chosen, but it's not too late, I'm offering you a chance to surrender. I promise it'll be easier on you this way."

Gellert shook his head. "You know I can't do that. They'll never show me any mercy or leniency now. Anyways, you weren't the only man that made a decision that night."

Those eyes that used to crinkle up in boyish laughter, now narrowed unflinchingly towards him. Without words, they spoke volumes and said that he was determined; that he would die for his convictions, just like he knew his adversary would. "Very well, then," Albus nodded, realizing there could only be one outcome, "if there is no other way."

They draw their wands and the first spell is cast.

* * *

It only takes one fatal misstep and the battle, at last, comes to its bloody conclusion.

He slips for less than a second and Albus takes advantage of the opportunity by disarming Gellert, sending his wand flying several feet away as he hurtles down into the ground. Standing above his enemy, he points his wand at Gellert's face and feels his hand tremble at the knowledge whether or not this man lives now depends on what he does next.

And a part of Albus wants to do it, wants to kill him for all he's done, for his inability to realize the error of his ways. The image of his sister pounds furiously in the back of his mind, causing his eyes to burn with tears, and he realizes that he would probably be justified in doing it too, destroying the one who had caused her death. Yet another part of him still cares for him and wants to take him back, to nurse the very injuries that his own hand had caused.

He looks into Gellert's eyes, hoping to see something, anything there that would make this choice easier. But he sees nothing there; only madness that had consumed his fallen angel. "Do it, Albus," the man hisses instead, as if he knew what was stopping him. " _Kill me._ If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't have hesitated for a moment."

He knows it's probably true, knows his friend has never stopped and thought before unleashing destruction everywhere he went. And in one swift movement, as if a sudden decision had been made, Albus flicks his wrist and thorny vines shoot out from the tip of his wand, encircling his opponent's body, leaving him unable to move, stuck in the sludge of warfare. Seconds later, a team Aurors rush by Albus and he stands there mutedly as hears Gellert angry screams as they take him away. And just like that, the fighting is over and peace is seemingly restored.

It should be a day of celebrations, really; but as the wizarding community rejoices the fall of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and the papers sing praises of The One who defeated him, Albus is oblivious to it all. He is too busy mourning for all that he has lost.

* * *

In the days that follow, he receives a trial and the verdict comes to a surprise to none.

 _"_ _Gellert Grindewald, I hereby sentence you, as I am required by Wizardry Law, to four thousand and sixty five consecutive life sentences. One for every life you have ever needlessly taken."_

* * *

If you had asked him, Gellert would have told you that he preferred Azkaban.

It was a place where people went and ceased to exist. Driven by insanity, the inmates there become one with the darkness and despair that the fortressed reeked off, and quickly became no different than the empty hollow souls that guarded them.

It was a fate that seemed like a blessing in comparison to Numengard; a prison that was large enough to hold thousands yet only housed him; an unforgiving hell of cement and stone where his only companion was his conscious and all the time in the world to think about his sins. And soon enough, Geller even gives up his plans of his escape when he realizes that he will most likely die in here and all the days begin to blur together in a constant shift of light and dark through the window of his cell.

* * *

He isn't even sure how long it's been when he hears someone coming in from down the corridor, his first visitor in God knows how many decades. But rather than greet them, Gellert keeps his eyes focused on the stretch of roiling sea visible from the window in front of him. He tries to remember when the last time he saw sunlight was or felt the warmth of its glorious rays on his skin, but he cannot and coughs loudly, his body having borne the brunt of living under such appalling conditions for far too long.

"Are they treating you well?" a voice with a familiar accent outside of his cell asks, but he chooses not to answer. He knows this cannot be the real purpose of his visit – there is no one left to treat him in any way, and his companion didn't travel all the way here for the sake of small talk. "There will be another war, you know," Albus announces, trying to pique his attention. "It's not yet been released to the public, but it's all looking very bad." At the lack of reaction, he adds, "His name is Voldermort.. It would seem history is repeating itself for I failed to stop him when I had the chance, though they say that his power even surpasses yours."

Gellert looks up, coldly. His sunshine hair has fallen off, the spark in eyes has been permanently extinguished, and his skin was paler than ever before, almost grey. "Why are you here, Albus?" He asks.

He had wondered that himself; perhaps it was because he felt guilt for having done this to this man, for having reduced him to a shell of his former self, even if this sad ending had been necessary. "Is it really so unusual to come see an old friend?" Albus asks in return instead, attempting light-hearted banter.

"If this friend is locked in prison for war crimes, and if you are the one who put him there, and if you also have failed to visit him once since he was imprisoned, then yes," He answered, and in a tone that suggested he did not crave human interaction despite being alone for so long. "I would say that it is highly unusual."

"Ah," Albus sighs, "I see that you're still angry."

"I am only what you've made me. Though I must say I am proud of your choice of punishment, locking me away in the very prison I created…Tell me this, did you think that I would repent in here, wallow away in my guilt and remorse? Was this your last attempt to turn me against my so-called chosen path, even if you'd never let me become a free man again?"

"I have never wished to cage you-"

"Because there is nothing more that I will regret," He says sharply, interrupting him. "I've given myself to a life of no guilt."

"No guilt, Gellert? None at all?" Albus' voice is seemingly passive but it has an undercurrent of disbelief, as though he _knows_ there are some things this man cannot bring himself to feel blameless in; just like how he _knows_ they are both thinking of the same night, the one they could never fully recover from.

"A _future_ with no guilt," he amends. "I will always regret what happened."

"Everything?" Albus asks, eyes glinting with hope. He wants to believe it is so; that his time in here truly changed him.

"No." He answers bluntly. "What I meant is I have spent my life doing horrible things - I have sold people out to death to save myself; I have maimed dozens; I have killed hundreds of men and women in the name of the greater good. I have hurt so many, Albus, and yet…" He pauses, "she's the only victim I regret."

Albus is silent for a few moments before he finds his voice once more. "Gellert….you know who did it, don't you? That's why you never returned."

He laughed, humourlessly. "Even if I did, what good would knowing do?"

"I'm dying," Albus answered.

The prisoner looked shocked briefly and a painful silence fell between them for a few moments, before the older man recomposed himself. "How much longer do you have?'

"Maybe a few weeks, a few months at best. And before I do, I think I'd like to know the truth."

"It was me," Gellert answered rather quickly. But for all his brilliance, this man had never been a convincing liar. In fact, it had been one of his only real weaknesses, the fact that his expressive eyes would always betray what he was actually thinking. And his companion knew this, because Albus knew him better than anyone else. And Albus also knew what the truth was, even if the man before him refused to confirm his suspicions; that it had in fact been _his_ fault. That his sister had died because of him.

He always assumed that his feelings had not been returned, yet here was proof that this man had loved him after all. That Gellert was unwilling to voice what would undoubtedly destroy Albus. It was clear now that he had cared for him, just not in the same way that Albus had always cared for him. And with that, he had all the answers he needed.

"I don't think I'll be able to return but I am glad I was able see you one final time," Albus announced, smiling sadly. Suddenly, there was no more anger or hatred between them, and it almost was like how it used to be before. "Farewell, my dear friend."

"Farewell."

And with that, the visitor leaves, and it's the last time that they ever see each other in this world.

* * *

True to his word, it was his time to die just a few months later.

And he understands that his time is finally up when Snape appears in front of him, just as they had always planned he would, with several other Death Eaters by his side. Albus is almost grateful for his arrival – he can no longer bear the pain and just wants to be relieved of it.

"Please," is all Albus can ultimately muster to say as his final words. The older man is begging him now; he hopes that if he dies by the hand of his friend, that the young Malfoy boy might still be able to save his soul and repent for his sins. The way that some other people he knew were never able to.

Snape nodded ever so slightly and clutched on to his wand more tightly. Mere seconds later, Albus heard those words he had been waiting for. "Avada kedavra!" It's followed by a jet of green light that was aimed for him, hurling at a speed so fast that he would never have the time to move or avoid it

There was nothing left to do now. His work here was done; for he knows Harry will be strong enough to do what he never could. And so Albus is not afraid when the world around him turns to black.

" _Gellert…"_

* * *

Shortly after, it was his turn next. For one night, Gellert was visited by that abomination of a man; the Dark Lord himself, who he had heard was meant to be more powerful than he ever was. He realizes that their meeting must have been inevitable, really, though it still surprised him all the same.

"Tell me where it is," the wizard demanded, his voice echoing loudly in the tiny little cell, which garnered his attention. "Tell me who possesses it and I shall spare your life."

It was almost ironic, how much similarities he must have shared with the man before him. This creature, too, had been driven by a mad quest for greatness and was feared by millions. They had also both hated Muggles and dreamed of a world where their people no longer had to live in fear, hiding from them. And if he simply told this man what he wanted to know – where that unstoppable wand was - those dreams that he had used to have might finally come true.

But instead of offering him with the knowledge he wanted, Gellert looked up at his guest and offered a cocky sneer of contempt. "Kill me then," the old man taunted. "You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours." He continued to laugh and felt a certain sense of satisfaction at the look of rage that appeared on the creature's face as he realized he wouldn't be getting what he wanted - not matter how much he tortured or threatened him.

A green light then soared through the room and Gellert wasn't afraid of his death, in the end, either. He had lived a long life, and the only dreams he had these days were that he might be able to reunite with his old friend on the other side, when his time finally came.

* * *

But not all tales in end in happy-endings.


End file.
